Completed Circuit
by obsessionpersonified
Summary: God, please, please don't let go." She gasped, lacing her fingers with his. Her face was covered in a sheen of sweat. Anemone would have gladly begged Satan to touch her at that point.
1. Chapter 1

Anemone and Agent Darcy

Anemone lay back and tried to loosen up as Croc slid the metal prong deep into her brain. It felt odd, stangely odd, as if someone were numbing the back of one's head. She shuddered as it seated itself in its specified hole and briefly mused that it was scarily similar to sex. A tab sliding into a slot that was specifically designed for it. When she opened her eyes she was in the Real, standing in the empty space made especially for loading programs.

For a moment she imagined herself in her minds eye. Some people had different looks, when they came to the real. Unfortunatly her hair was still dull pale red/dishwater blonde, niether long nor short, and pulled into a simple ponytail and her eyes a dark gray. Croc had often mentioned that in certain lights her hair was shot through with gold, and her eyes a stormy sea but then again, Croc had been trying to get into her pants for years. She was on the shorter side, a mere five-foot two, with curves that scoffed at her dellusions about diets. No matter what she ate, gruel, nutrients, water, she kept the smooth rounded body and sighed in vain over the toned, slim bodies of the other girls.

Wrinkling her nose she banished those thoughts and instead concentrated.

"Load the shooting practice please, Croc." She said, slightly louder than normal.

"No problemo Mone'." Croc's voice echoed slightly in the illusion of the room. With a whoosh that seemed physical enough to whisk her hair about her face, the program downloaded. Seconds later she was in slim black jeans, a dark green tank and a matching black jean jacket.

Around her was a stereotypical shooting range, a long black metal row of open-backed boxes facing another line of red and white targets. Sliding a small gun from the holster by the door she slid on safety-glasses and took aim. The ear-numbing shot and kick-back brought her thoughts into line. As she let out an entire clip, hitting near the center of the target, she mused on the thoughts that led her to this, her sanctuary in times of distress.

Xerxes, Neo and Trinity's oldest son, a dreamboat in every sense of the word. He was tall, well, every guy was tall to her. With shining deep brown hair and sweet chocolate brown eyes. His body was nothing to scoff at either, sleek and muscled. He underwent surgery a while back to implant plugs into his body, but that didn't take away from his allure. He was soft-spoken and sweet with his fathers mysterious aura. Every girl in Xion between the ages of ten and fifty wanted him. Anemone most certainly was included, in fact, she believed she had come the closest to having him.

Freed at the age of twelve, she instantly fell into his gang, although he was a good three years older. She considered herself his friend, and felt that he believed it too. Then puberty hit and with it the horror of her crush. Instead of leaving, it intensified over the years and now, a full eight years later she was still mooning over him. Which was rediculous, she constantly told herself, especially with Dot around. Dot, the prim, prissy little piece of blonde tail that now had Xerxes' attention like a dog after a bone.

Teeth bared she reloaded and began anew.

"What was so important, Croc?" Morpheus asked, straightening his robe. Croc could barely tear his eyes away from the screen, where a girl was playing around in the real. To him it seemed she was using a trainers simulation, which aimed her gun for her.

"Morpheus, sir, look at her! Every shot a bullseye, even after I began the evasive manuevers. She's... she's amazing!" Croc replied, awed, not even looking at the tall black man beside him. Morpheus leaned down, taking a moment to watch. Indeed, the girl tore through the program like a pro, and began ripping the manuvering section to shreds.

"She is operating with training wheels?" He asked. Training wheels was slang for the automated, computerized help system.

"Heres the kicker, sir. She never has. Mone' never needed training wheels. Ever. She is a complete natural." Croc replied, smiling self-satisfiedly as he uploaded another, tougher level. In half the time it took normal trainees she was finished, demanding another set.

"Is this the first time she has been so good?" Morpheus asked when Croc obeyed the sweating girl. Croc hesitated.

"...no. No its not, sir. The first couple times I figured, beginners luck. When it became a regular thing I filed a report, but nothing came of it. So, I decided to show you." He typed quickly, sparing a glance at the radar. The he froze, before whipping his head back. Morpheus turned, just in time to see it.

"Electric storm, heading this way. Can you out manuever it?" He asked, calmly, quietly. Croc shook his head, as he furiously began steering the floating ship away from the fatal cloud of electrodes.

"Contact in ten seconds." He got out, choked on his own fear. In the last seconds, he turned his wide, terrified eyes to where Anemone was attatched. "Mone'."

Anemone had just destroyed a group of men running at her with bats when the program fizzled out.

"Croc? Whats going on Croc? This isn't funny!" She called out into the black space. "Come on-"

The breath was jerked out of her as a wave of what seemed like pure pain slammed into her. Anemone was swept off her feet, but she didn't fall, instead she paused in mid-air, convulsing in pain as another wave composed entirely of fire hit her with the force of a ton of bricks. Spasms unlike anything she'd ever felt before consumed her, head to toe, as she slammed into wall after wall of some odd electricity. Then she broke out, gasping in breath like a drowning man, before it was forced out of her again as she whammed into a warm, hard, entity.

Anemone's training forced her aching eyes open, and practice focased them. When one is Freed, everything is an effort of will and one learns how to control one's body. She took inventory while her eyes adjusted. Her body throbbed with every beat of her heart, which stuttered oddly. She was twitching slightly, but not bleeding as far as she could tell. When her eyes cleared she finally turned her weary mind to what she landed on.

An agent!

Reason, logic and training flew out the door as she stared in open-mouthed shock at the black-sunglassed eyes staring at her.

"I-I'm in the Matrix?" She gasped, mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

"Yes, you are." He answered in the odd, slow way agents talk. She had a quick moment to notice he was not like other agents, before the Pain Wave hit her. Surprised at the enormous shock of pain, she fisted her hands in a death grip on the Agent's suit. His arms went up around waist as she shook and trembled and cried with pain, before she was falling again, and the world went dark.

~_*_~

"Her heart stopped again. Paddles."

"My god, she's still living? The Electro-storm was one of the highest we ever-"

"We know, get the physician."

"Yes sir."

Anemone opened her eyes, which was harder than it had every been before and vaguely focased on the kind face above her.

"Morpheus?" She whispered, feeling warm, thick fluid seem from her mouth. His wise brown eyes met hers and he smoothed a hand over her forehead.

"Rest. Help is coming." Gratefully she slipped back into oblivion.

~_*_~

Anemone came too a second time, feeling cotton-mouthed and fuzzy. She was very, very tired, her eyes were tired, her heart was tired and her mind couldn't seem to wake up fully. Also, beneath the cottony, numb feeling of the drugs floating in her system a headache pounded at her temple. In fact, it was less of a headache and more of a body-ache, dimmed slightly by the narcotics, but still persistant. With a force of will that was way more tiring than it should have been, she put the ache in the back of her mind. Disinterestedly she looked around.

The pale, green walls of the infirmiry greeted her, with various insterments of healing around her. She was lying flat, wearing an asexual hospital gown and several I.V.'s. Her room was relatively empty except for her bed, a chair, and the Agent standing in the corner staring at her. For a moment it didn't click.

"Oh. Hullo." She croaked, waving a limp hand at him, wincing as the body ach intensified. The Agent assessed this, then came forward.

"You are drugged." He announced, his voice deep and slow, and not at all as horrible as she was told.

"Higher than a kite." She agreed cheerfully, lazily blinking and lowering her hand. She missed the bed and it fell off to her side, hanging in the air.

Anemone observed it, hanging limply, and tried to lift it again. The shock of pain that hit her was without equal, and without struggle she let it fall. The Agent observed her, then came forward and grabbed her wrist. Anemone gasped, feeling every bit of the ache evaporate instantly. The Agent assessed this, viewing her as if she were some sort of experiment doing something new. Then, he deliberatly released her hand.

She gasped anew as the pain winged through her with avengence. The drugs seemed to have no effect on them now, and they played havoc on her nervous system. With half an ear she heard the beeps of her heartbeat on the moniter increase dramatically as pain wrung her every muscle dry. Just as soon as it became too much and she felt oblivion darkening the edges of her vision, he grabbed her pale, limp wrist.

"God, please, please don't let go." She gasped, lacing her fingers with his. Her face was covered in a sheen of sweat. Anemone would have gladly begged Satan to touch her at that point, ardrenaline having erased the previous drugs and the I.V. too slow to refill the need.

Agent nodded once, abruptly, and tightened their entwined fingers gently.

"I will not release you." He answered. Anemone nodded, the I.V. finally doing its work and drugging her again. A goofy smile curved her lips.

"Good. Good, very good. It hurt so much, Agent dude-man. I mean, so much." She slurred. Then she viewed him through half-lidded eyes. "Here, lay with me. It'd suck muchly to have to stand while I pass out like a good girl. No, seriously. Lay down."

Anemone tugged ineffectually at his hand, until the Agent nodded and lay next to her on his side. Completely out of it, she wrapped her arms around his waist, glorying in the feelings that arose. The more of him she touched, the better her body felt. And he was warm too, odd if she thought about it so she didn't, instead snuggling deeper into him. Anemone took a quick minute to adjust one of his expensive-feeling suit arms around her waist, before burrowing deep into his chest again and breathing in.

"Hey, Agent Dude-man, you smell good. Really good. How do you do that?" She slurred drunkenly into his collar.

"Not all agents are mere programs. I am an older model." He answered her softly, voice rumbling through his chest and to her ears. "-and its D. Agent D."

"D. Agent D. Dragon, Drake, Drawers, Dumbeldore, Dumbo, Delicate, D'Argo, Darcy. Darcy. Agent D?" She asked, voice fading with each random word.

"Yes?"

"Can I call you Darcy?" She asked, voice a mere breath.

"...yes."

"Kewl. You really don't look like a Dumbledore anyway."


	2. Chapter 2

~_*_~

Agent D, or Darcy, as he had been recently dubbed, sat behind Anemone. She was still under anesthesia, deeply, to prevent any pain. She lay between his legs, reclining on his chest, red-gold hair splayed over him in a river of softness. He unconciously played with a strand in one hand. While he waited for her to emerge from the remaining drugs in her system he watched her visitors.

Morpheus, tall and silent, checking her vitals and staying all throughout the night. Another girl, around Anemone's age, checking in during short intervals, but regularly. And lastly a group. Led by Xerxes, the anomoly's child, and a tall, thin blonde they came but once a day.

None of them seemed to notice him, or that Anemone was floating a couple inches off the pillow, so Darcy concluded that he only effected her.

But what was so special about her?

~_*_~

Anemone listened to the doctor with half an ear and half a mind. The other half of her was freaking out. Seriously freaking out.

There was an Agent in her room! No one could see him, no one could touch him other than herself, and worse yet, she was SITTING ON HIM. She tried to be calm, or at least, appear calm. Screaming out about the invisible, calm Agent she was sitting on that very moment didn't seem the right course to help her get out of the hospice. Besides which, as she found out, when she wasn't touching him it hurt.

A lot.

As in, she nearly passed out, couldn't breath, death was coming for her a lot. So, she smiled a small, half-smile that made her feel demented and nodded a what seemed apppropriate moments.

"The physician has asked you if you have someone checking you out." A soft, but firm voice interuppted her paniced reverie.

"Oh, not that I know of, sir. I've been kind of out of it." Anemone showed her teeth, hoping he'd take it for a smile and leave it at that. Luckily her doctor was too easily pleased, and he smiled and marked a few spots on the papers he held. Under her breath she muttered. "Shut up."

"What dear?" The doctor asked. Anemone smiled too broadly.

"Whats up? Am I cured?" She forced out. The doctor 'ahh'ed and nodded.

"Well, you seem to check out. Calm, concise. Very good." He affirmed, standing. "I shall call someone to see you too your home, please, feel free to get dressed."

Anemone's smile froze on her face as the door closed. Naked. She was naked under the gown. And she had to take it off. Take it off and be naked in front of... him.

"Your pulse has jumped. Your blood pressure is rising and you are flushed in the cheeks. It this because you are still ill or is it the fact that you must undress in my presence?" He asked behind her, voice magnifying through his chest. Anemone cleared her throat.

"Neither. And stop reading me. And shut up! If people here see me talking to myself I will not get out of here!" She hissed, sliding her legs out from under the covers. The agent moved with her, hand on her elbow, simultaniously holding the link and helping her stand. Anemone ignored him, in favor of digging her clothes out of the basket.

Her skirt was a simple, calf-length affair, cut to a point on the front and back and in a soft brown. The shirt was a pull-over, sleeved article, and with a little ingenuity and a lot of cursing, she managed to dress herself, keep connected to the Agent and not reveal herself in an embarassing and ulitimately death-related incident. Balancing on one foot and leaning against the Agent she wriggled her feet into her sandles just as the door opened to reveal-

"Xerxes!" Anemone gasped. The delicious looking guy grinned sheepishly.

"Hey, Monee'." He answered, reaching around for their traditional hug. Akwardly she hugged him one-handed and released him quickly. Xerxes wasn't someone she wanted around, especially not with the Agent who was just then twiniing his fingers with her. Purely for comfort, she clenched his hand breifly and was relieve to feel him hold her back.

"I, uh, I kinda ache a little still and I want to go home so..." She got out, barely managing to avoid him in her haste to get out the door.

"Oh, hey, I'll walk you home-" He reached out a hand to hold hers, the one she had now entwined with Agents. Anemone jerked it away. There was an akward moment.

"No thank you. The doctor is sending a nurse." She said firmly, and then with a quick impersonal smile, she dragged the Agent down the hall.

Anemone avoided talking the whole ten minute walk to her personal space, past the commons where people on her shelf gathered to talk, and up the carven in stairs the her suite of rooms. Inside she pressed her back agains the door and let out a breath. The Agent was in front of her, watching. Always watching. She glared at him through his sun-glasses.

"We have to talk."

Within minutes she was sitting beside him, his arm thrown over her shoulders and a mug in her hands.

"Okay, first off, why the hell are you here?" She said breathing in the fumes.

"I cannot answer for certain. I have not all the data, but, I have concluded so far that we have a singular instance here. Through what a I gather is an electrical storm thrown off by the Matrix, you were jettisoned wirelessly into the self-same Matrix programme. You were there merely a milisecond, but in that time managed to twine your digital self around my core data. When they shocked you back into your body you brought me with you. My programme resides in the circuits and conduets in the plugs on your body." He answered fully. With an unconcious move as natural to her as breathing, she leaned against his warmth and sighed.

"So, I can feel you and hear you just the same as if I were... inside the Matrix or the real even?" She concluded, and felt him nod above her.

"Indeed. Very astute analogy. Because I reside in, essentially, your brain, it acknoledges my touch as real." He elaborated.

"Okay, so how do I get rid of you? I mean, no offense, your a sweety for an Agent, but I can't have you in my head all the time." She let out a mocking laugh. "Barely enough room for me in here."

"Indeed. I have hypothesized that were you to enter the Matrix I would be able to uncurl my data from you and return." He offered. Anemone groaned.

"Oh gods. that will cause a problem." She rolled her shoulders trying to erase a kink. "You see, I have a least a month more before I can join a ship and even then it takes weeks of training to be allowed into the Matrix. Especially with all the new laws."

"Will you allow me?" He interupted, setting his hands on her shifting shoulder-blades. Anemone shrugged and he began kneading them professionally. "A month, perhaps two is far better than eternity. I feel we can co-exist for at least that long."

"I guess. Oh! Wow, that feels good." She groaned orgasmically as the kinks melted like butter on a hot skillet under his skillfull hands. "Before I become a quivering mass of jellied human, what's your name?"

"Ah. Under anesthesia I revealed my name, Agent D to you. You renamed me Darcy." He informed her, rubbing circles with his thumbs.

"Mmhmm. God yes. Okay then Darcy, you keep massaging me and I won't let you go back." She joked, and was slightly dissappointed when he stopped. Anemone turned and froze.

In her wriggling she managed to climb him like a monkey, and was now sitting on his lap. In turning she put them face to face, and she was now staring into those black, reflective sun-glasses, stilled in movement. Then, for really no reason at all, she lifted a hand and gently pulled them off.

His eyes were a soft grey, deep and dark, and unlike humans, a single color. There was no variation, no other splotch. Just pure grey. They were locked with hers, an inscrutable emotion seeming to swim within their depths. A study in stillness, Anemone exhaled, breath fanning warmly across his lips as she lost herself in the intensity of his eyes. Very slowly, he cocked his head a few degrees, bringing him slightly closer. She lifted her head, barely eyes passing over his face, and at her back she felt his hand skim the folds of her shirt as if he ghosted a hand over her back.

Then she blinked and pulled back. Clearing her throat she gave him a quick smile.

"Well, I think I'm tired so I'm going to sleep. Would you like me to play some music or something?" She stood, but held his hand softly to avoid breaking the circuit. Darcy shook his head in that same, yoga-slow, calm movement, lifting his sun-glasses and putting them back on. "Mmkay. Well, the bedroom's over here..."

Anemone led him throught the small series of rooms until she reached the smallest one yet. In the center was a varitable nest, hand-sewn blankets and pillows scattered in no real order. Silently, she tried to think of a way to break the uncomfortable, almost intimate silence they'd fallen into. Her inspiration came from her nightgown.

"Darcy? Do you, do you well, feel? As in, comfortable or uncomfortable?" She asked, turning to him. He cocked his head to the side and paused a moment.

"Yes, although not to the degree you would." He answered finally.

"Well, then you must be uncomfortable in that suit all the time. Why don't you take a few pieces off?" She offered, motioning to the stiff looking three-piece. He took another one of those pauses, where Anemone could just feel him blink. Then he nodded and lifted his hands to begin unbuttoning.

After a moment of confusiopn she settled on putting her hands on his face, skin to skin, while he removed the overcoat. Supersensitized, she breathed in and out, strangely feeling still slightly drugged when a moment ago she was completely sober. Anemone felt the heat flow through his skin and into hers, filling her with a heated languer similar to the effects of liquer. The warmth pooled sweetly between her thighs, throbbing with the beat of her heart. Her cheeks flushed, eyes went half-lidded, and she swayed into Darcy.

He had just pulled off the overcoat when Anemone's hands slid down his neck, over his shoulders and to his wrists in a lingering caress. Frozen into stillness, he looked at her, flushed face, lips parted, eyes half-lidded. With ease she lifted his hands to clasp her waist, bringing her closer, and began to unbutton his crisp white shirt. With every pop in the stillness she slid her cool fingers underneath to stroke the hot, muscled skin beneath. When his shirt hung on both sides of him she drew her hands over his torso, reveling in the play of muscle there.

He was very well built, or programmed. Hard muscle covered him, not an ounce of fat. No hair either, just smooth, silky skin. Moaning softly, she leaned forward, sliding her arms under his shirt to feel more of that glorious skin as pleasure hummed through her. Pressed as close as she could to him, Anemone lifted ehr head up, lips so close to his she could taste him.

Darcy felt her, slowly writhing against him. His own programme had been enhanced with human sensation to allow a further study, and now it worked against him. He felt her warm, curved body, and his programming responded in the way it had been created. Almost as if he couldn't help it, Darcy lifted his hands and ghosted them over her hair, down her back, and again to her hips, where they settled gently. He tilted his head, lowering it slightly to feel the heat radiating off of her lips.

When it appeared he would not take the next step, she whined in her throat and took it for him.

An explosion of pleasure burst through her, deeper then any other before him. Her lips touched his and she was electrified, every skin cell shivering in excuisite pleasure. Her arms twisted further around his neck, pulling him closer as she mashed herself against him. Darcy had no choise but to reciprocate, her lips were too sweet against his.

He calmed her frenzied, random movements, slowing them sweetly, a rain of kisses over her lips. Anemone obeyed him explicitly, content just to feel. Every touch of his lips reverberated through her body as if it was multiplied by a thousand. The very tips of his fingers came up to graze her face gently, doing eerie things to her sensitized flesh. Body flush to his, she pressed against him and reveled in the warmth of his body, the hard roll of his cock. Anemone whimpered in her throat, desprete for more contact when he tilted his head down. Foreheads touching, Darcy gasped for breath that he didn't really need.

"Hey, Monee'?" The call eches slightly in the cave-like interior, but unmistakably Xerxes. "Are you up there?"

Anemone swallowed and blinked as if her vision was cloudy. As she came to herself she leaned further into Darcy's embrace, gaining strength from him in a very physical way. When she finally opened her eyes her lips were pressed against his hot flesh, her arms around his neck, and she was way too close to him. Dizzily she pulled away, only at the last second remembering the keep a hand on his wrist.

"Yea, Yea I 'm here." She got out, studiously avoiding Darcy's gaze. She spun about, her back to his chest just as Xerxes came into the room. Anemone gave him a quick smile, before looking around. "Whats up? I told you I just want to go to sleep."

"I know, I heard you." He answered, looking around her room easily. "I just figured you could use a friend. I hear you were in the training programs when the electrical storm hit."

"Oh, come on." She hissed, knowing where he was going.

"I can only figure that you saw Dot and I... in an awkward position and went there to blow off some steam." He finished. Damn him for knowing her so well.

"Believe me, Xerk, I learned my lesson. The brush with death completely cured me of any errant strand of my girly crush on you." She laughed easily, amazed at how calm and sure she sounded. Couldn't he hear her heart screaming in her chest?

"Really?" He asked, looking at her with those big brown puppy-dog eyes. Then he grinned and tackled her, right out of the Agent's embrace. Pain whipped through her, stealing her breath and writhing through her body, causing her to arch and whimper against the pain. Unfortunately it merely looked as if she was holding in her laughter, and Xerxes merely laughed and kept tickling her. Anemone flung out a hand, wildly, to hit Xerxes away or grab something to hold onto she didn't know, but almost immediently it was clasped in Darcy's warm grasp and the pain was gone.

"Xerk, get off." She growled irritatedly, not noticing his shocked and dazed look as he stared into her eyes. He nodded and stood, holding a hand out to her. She took it, but allowed most of her weight to go to Darcy's hand.

"Anyway, I'll see you tommarrow?" He asked.

"Maybe the next day? i plan on sleeping for about a year." She gave him a small smile and he returned it, before leaving.


End file.
